The Sept. 3,1896 edition of the RANGELEY LAKES newspaper was packed with goodies, so as always, you the reader must suffer through what I felt, was of the most interest. If you are tiring of this approach, my apologies, but you can always read the entire edition (or any other) for yourself at: https://digitalmaine.com/rangeley_lakes_newspaper/

You can thank your Rangeley Lakes Historical Society for providing this opportunity, as well as the “Phillips Phonograph” and “Maine Woods” newspapers, through our partnership with the Maine State Library.

Enjoy what follows and be sure to make some great Rangeley history of your own. Who knows, maybe some 124 years from now, someone will be culling an interesting story out of the Highlander about you and reprinting it! My guess is that by 2124, it will be a subscription that gets implanted in a chip and projects on the inside of one’s eyelids or something awful like that.

(Editor’s note: Contemporary commentary in italics, otherwise copy is reprinted just as it was in the September 3, 1896 edition of the RANGELEY LAKES).

The name ‘Tibbetts’ is an old Rangeley name. Luther Tibbetts was one of the original builders of the first 3 ‘Indian Rock’ boats, the name first given to what was to become known as the Rangeley Boat. What follows is the account of another member of the prolific Tibbetts clan on his 99th birthday found above the fold of Page 2.

Old But Active

The occasion was the birthday reception given to the venerable Stephen F. Tibbetts, the father of Mrs. Gammon, who celebrated on that date his 99th birthday, surrounded by a small gathering of those nearest of kin… One of his first remarks of the evening was in relation to this same subject of personal vigor, when he had occasion to refer to his own bodily health. Extending his left hand, still rounded, strong and full of color, he said with pardonable satisfaction, “I am 99 years old to-day and I’ll venture to say that some men of 50 can’t hold their hands any stiller.”… (Stephen was a sailor for much of his early life) He remembers the battle or naval duel off Portland between the American cruiser Enterprise and the British ship Boxer, which he went down to see. During the fight he was the guest of Lieut. Benton, an officer stationed in Fort Scammel, and directly after the battle he went aboard the vessels, where the scene of carnage was such that he turned sick at the sight, and for many years the awful picture would recur to his memory with unwelcome frequency. The decks were slippery with the blood of the slain, and the effects of the broadsiding, especially of the deadly chain-shot, then in free use in the navy, were marvelous to behold. The spars and rigging were cut short, splintered and gouged by those awful missiles as cleanly as if cut with a sharpened edge.

In describing the landing of some Marines at Portland and their somewhat boisterous career through the town, Mr. Tibbetts referred to a sea song of the time. “You know that song, don’t you?” he asked. When the listener confessed ignorance, he promptly repeated the entire poem, nearly a dozen stanzas, and in a most expressive manner.

He stated that the British ship, the Boxer, which was brig-rigged like the Enterprise, was so injured that she sank near what is now the Portland breakwater, and that nearly 20 years later he saw her hulk lying in the same spot, while he was on a visit to the city.

The love of the sea is still strong with him, and one of his first requests when taken for a drive, was to go to the beach and see his old friend “Davy Jones” as he calls the ocean.

At the age of 81 he surprised his wife by taking down his skates one winter day. When asked what he wanted of them, he replied that he was going to skate across to the other side of the pond to get some chisels ground, and so proceeded to accomplish the feat with as little trouble as a man of 20. (Note: Stephen comments that the HMS Boxer eventually sank, when in fact, it was repaired, sold and served as a merchant ship for another 12 years. But hey, he was 99 when he shared the story, right?)

Page 3 shares a big day for Captain Barker and daughter Florence.  Outdoor Heritage Museum has a beautiful model of the ‘Florence’ built by Ray Franson.

Steamer Florence at Bemis pier

Bemis

Captain Barker’s new steamer “Florence” was launched Saturday. It was the intention to have got her into water Friday, but the work was delayed. The regulation bottle was broken on the prow by the Captains daughter, Florence, as the boat went down the ways. Captain Howard says she will be a fine one. A large number were present.

On page 4 the following feature illustrates how the editor, Harry P. Dill, was also engaging readers with his own version of “Snap Shots in Time” by taking a look back into Rangeley’s past. So a look back at a ‘look back’, so to speak…

EARLY RANGELEY

In looking back through the kaleidoscope of time one sees the constant revolving of changes transpiring here, there, to you, to others, in fact everybody and everything is subject to changes which no one can escape and which nothing can obliterate.

These are many little incidents which happened in early Rangeley which, perhaps, though of little importance to the generation of people now here, yet they may be of interest to some who lived through the pioneer days of this now famous summer resort.

’Twas the first of the century when Luther Hoar, father of Mrs. T. H. Tibbetts, started from Phillips with his family. His team consisted of a sled, with himself and wife yoked together, and it is said it was a well matched pair, with the children and all the belongings of the entire family (much or little as that might have been), over the crust to hue out of an unbroken forest their future home. It is related that while on the journey, the youngest child, the late Mrs. William Ross of Phillips was wrapped up in blankets. By accident she fell off the sled and the “team” had gone over two miles before the loss of the precious burden was noticed. The head of the invading colony retraced his steps and found the child wrapped snugly in the blankets laying on the crust, apparently unhurt by the catastrophe.

Another Incident, pertaining to the same family, yet it was after one of the daughters, Sarah, or “Sally,” as she was always called, had married Nathaniel Toothaker and raised up a family of 12 children all but two being boys. One day some friends were visiting at the Toothaker mansion, and in the large kitchen, so characteristic of the old-time homes, sat five or six of the boys with knitting needles in their hands. They were making their own stockings and undoubtedly on account of the scarcity of the gentler sex had to do double duty. (And today, can you imagine how fun it would be to hand the kids some knitting needles and yarn and tell them they have to sit there and knit their own socks. Yeah, right!)

In speaking of early Rangeley it was about the time that the sportsmen were beginning to think favorably of this place as a sporting region and a gentleman from New York had ventured to come and place himself in the hands of a guide, which at that time were very scarce. One day while on the lake his guideship inquired, “where are you from?” “New York” responded the sport. “Well” replied the guide, “haint you sorry you live so far away?” as if there was no place, to the guide, like home. (I have always felt this way. I pity folks who live elsewhere…and I felt that way even BEFORE all the crazy stuff that’s been going on).

The days of the old stage from Phillips to Rangeley are remembered with a great deal of pleasure. An old driver, Moses Wells by name, was one of the boys. In those days there was going through the country a man known as the “Machine Poet.”

(What? ‘Machine Poet’…Sounds like a rapper to me)

He could, by a man giving him a subject, make up a verse of poetry instantaneously, and the boys wanted him to make a verse about Moses Wells. So, after the poet got the subject of Moses Wells, stage driver, he started off on the following:

Moses Wells,

As people tells,

You must not think acts strangely,

He fills the age and drives the stage,

From Phillips through to Rangeley.”

Of course, this brought a shout from the by-standers and they had got one on Moses.

Word out, Machine Poet!

And what would a newspaper be, without a touch of National Enquirer-like sensationalism?

This from page 5…

About every week a new story of seeing, or capturing, a sea serpant. The latest is from the Gulf of Mexico, fifty feet long and six feet around. It was only a young one which accounts for its small size. Cannot some of our guides discover one in some nearby pond that will beat it?

And save those last bits of soap! This recipe from page 3 sounds like good clean fun.

Economy in Soap

Many a thrifty housekeeper hesitates to throw away bits of toilet soap that accumulate in the soap dishes. These pieces may be made into cakes as good as new by simply cutting them into small bits and dissolving in boiling water, a teacup of water to half a cup of scraps. When melted, stir in ground oatmeal or Indian meal to make a stiff batter. Pour the mixture into cups and let it harden and dry. The result will be an excellent soap for removing stains and softening the skin. Pieces of kitchen soap if not utilized in a soap shaker, may be made over in the same way, or if desired for scouring purposes sea sand may be added instead of the oatmeal.

Mr. E.T. Hoar must not have enjoyed the sermon on the Sunday previous to this listing, found in the classified section…

FOR SALE OR RENT Reasonable, Pew in Rangeley Church. Apply to E. T. HOAR.

I was unaware, that in 1896 one could OWN a pew in a church? I wonder what a “reasonable” pew went for? I’d prefer and unreasonable one. Dual cup holders, leather seats, Son roof.